


let me have your weakened pride to hold

by the_ragnarok



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Collars, D/s, Kneeling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: On the screen in front of Harold, John is a green dot making its way home.





	let me have your weakened pride to hold

On the screen in front of Harold, John is a green dot making its way home. 

Or rather, to the library. Harold isn’t sure he approves. Neither of them got much sleep in the last 36 hours. Harold is doing better by some margin - John insisted that Harold take a nap during the two hours they waited for Mann to leave his parents’ house. 

Then again, he does trust John’s judgement. If John is coming to the library, likely there is something he wants more than sleep.

When John comes in, the whistling wind and the leaves it carries follow him inside. He almost shows effort closing the door. Harold stays at his desk, looking at John through the webcam aimed at the library’s entrance.

John looks, if Harold may be forgiven for the phrase, like hell. He walks with large, loud strides, unlike his usual graceful movement. He walks up to Harold with a thunderous expression, teeth bared in an expression not remotely like a smile. He stares at Harold as though issuing a challenge. His shirt is torn in several places, stained with dry blood.

Harold stands up. He feels oddly immaculate next to John, in his clean suit. John has lost his jacket somewhere. Harold doubts he feels the cold at the moment, but it’s still a concern. 

However, first things first: he must give John what John needs more than rest or physical comfort. Harold puts his hands over John’s shoulders and pushes. Not hard, but a command nonetheless. 

John goes down without a struggle. His expression as he goes down drains of aggression, allowing John’s fatigue to come to the surface. Harold tightens his grip minutely, just enough that John sags forward.

Harold sits back down. John hugs Harold’s legs and rests his head on Harold’s thigh, displaying his neck. Harold trails two fingers down John’s nape and watches him shiver. “Yes, you’ve had quite a day, haven’t you.”

This makes John stir. “You, too,” he says, hoarse.

That will not do. Harold pushes down on John’s neck until John becomes pliant again. “Don’t worry yourself with me. I am taking adequate care of myself. And now - no arguing, please - I would like to take care of you, as well.”

John’s shirt, open at the collar as it customarily is, allows Harold to reach under it to pet the skin of John’s shoulders, his back, appreciating the strength displayed there. John’s skin is warmer under the shirt. John’s arms tighten around Harold’s legs, clutching him close, even as he tries to rise and push into Harold’s hands.

Harold moves one hand to grip John’s hair, close to the root, aiming not to hurt but to direct. He presses John’s face firmly into his lap, even as his other hand continues to pet John. “Do you want a pillow?”

John shakes his head, much as Harold expected. As predictably, he nods when Harold asks, “Do you want your collar?”

When not in use, the collar lives in Harold’s desk drawer. “Stay,” Harold says, and removes his hand from John’s hair to take out the collar. John makes a brief sad noise when Harold stops petting him. Putting the collar on him seems to steady him somewhat; when Harold resumes petting him, John doesn’t strain upwards as desperately, trusting Harold not to leave him cold.  

After roughly twenty minutes spent in this position, Harold’s worries about the state of John’s knees and his core temperature come to the fore. “All right. Time to go to bed.” John doesn’t argue, rising docilely to his feet. 

The room Harold keeps inside the library has become better furnished since this arrangement with John began, including a large mattress, made with flannel sheets and a thick duvet. John removes his clothes without being told. Harold brings warm water in a bowl and cleans off the worst of the dirt off John.

“Can’t have me messing up the bed,” John murmurs.

Harold flicks his ear in reprimand. “You know very well I don’t care. I simply want you to be able to sleep comfortably." 

That is not the whole truth. There is a visceral satisfaction to washing the outside world off John, using cleanliness to put his own mark on John. But Harold must be allowed to hold some things close to the chest.

When John is clean and resting under the duvet, Harold takes off his clothes, striving to be as unselfconscious as John is in nudity. He settles behind John, lays a kiss on his nape just above the collar and reaches to take hold of John’s cock: not seeking to arouse, only establishing possession. "Sleep well, my dear.” 


End file.
